The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 02

I was falling and my body was screaming out in terror, but I managed to keep my own mouth shut, and forced myself to tuck my legs under me, and roll when I hit the ground of the alley behind Juan's Neuro Solutions. I'd rolled over a bit of the broken glass from the window I'd shot out, my favorite pair of jeans had a lot of fresh tears, my leather jacket was scuffed to hell, and my legs felt like the devil had been playing them for a xylophone, but other than that, I'd managed to come through it mostly unscathed.

I clipped Mari's handcannon onto my belt. I didn't need a gun out with the cops crawling around.

I began to sprint up the alley when two uniformed SPD officers stepped into my path. I think they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. The nearest one fumbled his service pistol out of its holster, but I was too close, slipping my right arm under his elbow and grabbing his wrist with my left hand. I pressed his arm like I was pushing a lever until he screamed in pain as his forearm broke in two places and the pistol in his hand went clattering to the ground. When I let go of him, he went down the same as his pistol, groaning and clutching at his arm.

His partner had a little better resolve. He hadn't been top of his class in unarmed combat at the academy like I had (they'd even asked me back to teach a class once...and then never again), but it didn't matter when you had a punch that could drop a mule. It certainly put me down, a shockingly powerful blow to my gut that sent me crashing to all fours to catch my breath while the world decided to do the tango in front of me. I noticed one of the world's dancing partners was a stray brick.

"Where the fuck are you running to?" asked guy who'd hit me.

"Your balls," I said, and grabbed the brick, bashing it up against his crotch with as much force as I could muster. There was a brief moment where I was afraid I hadn't hit him hard enough and he just stood, his eyes bulged, before he too went rolling on the ground, a blubbering mass of pain and suffering.

Now he knew how I felt.

I struggled to my feet, stumbling to the edge of the alley. We were on the other side of the building from the neuro den's entrance, and there was just the one lone squad car the two officers I'd just assaulted had come in. I slipped across the street, then down another alley, and another street, before I stepped into a cafe.

"Does your bathroom have a StreetDoc unit?" I asked the barista.

"Yeah, but you have to order something," he said.

"Coffee, cream and sugar," I said. "Now where's the bathroom?"

The StreetDoc was a piece of shit, a junked-up wall unit that someone had written a phone number across. When I plugged in my symptoms it only gave me some over-the-counter painkillers and recommended I take it easy for a while. I stripped off my jacket and used the penknife I kept in a sheath on my ankle to cut the scuffed up sleeves off, then tossed those in the trash can. I liked this jacket, but I liked not being arrested more. My sweater came off and I threw that away as well. I glanced at the rips in my jeans and sighed. It was going to look old-fashioned as hell, but there was no help for it. I dug my fingers into the tears, pulling them a little wider and looser and used the penknife to fray the edges of the rips to make like they'd come that way off the rack. Maybe someone would think I was trying to pull off a retro punk look. I could always claim to be a reenactor. I unhooked my bra and into the trash it went as well. I was going to keep my newly made leather vest unzipped and it could to pay to have every asset available. I could buy a new bra and sweater, but I couldn't necessarily make bail for suspected murder and assaulting two cops. The ripped jacket hung gently over my breasts, but not in any danger of flying off them, just revealing my cleavage and navel. Guess today was a day to get used to the feeling of leather on my bare skin.

My coffee was almost cold when I got out, but the barista didn't make a comment on that or my change in appearance. I tipped him more than cost of the coffee in appreciation, and sat in a corner booth where I could watch the street while pretending to read on my optical. About ten minutes later a couple of cops went running past the shop. One stopped and looked in, then shook his head at his partner and moved on.

I sat for another fifteen minutes, looking up James Murado on the web. I tracked down his criminal history; armed burglary in one of the nicer New Angeles suburbs. He'd gotten ten years, but been paroled in three for good behavior. A search for Juan's Neuro Solutions turned up a website. The "Meet our Qualified Staff!" page had Murado's headshot and a description, including the website where he ran a neuro-chip modification side business. That produced a phone number, and a back search on that turned up an address.

Finally, I hailed my Tesla O on my optical. The battered old thing collapsed to the street just in front of the cafe, and I dumped my coffee in the gutter before I got in and I punched in Murado's address, making sure the route had a proper StreetDoc I could stop at on the way.

It was dark out when the Tesla settled down outside the rubbish heap James Murado called a home in the Low Amazon. I snuck up to his house, creeping along the side until I found an unlocked window and slipped into the building.

The room I was in was a kitchen, sort of, but I'd be shocked if the stove worked. It was more like a pantry with a refrigerator and a table. I adjusted my optical's night vision to take advantage of the low-light and glanced around the corner of the kitchen's door.

The next room was a living room, and then a single hall, with two doors off one side and a final door at the end. I could see the light under the last door. Murado.

But my instinct was to clear the house first, so I moved carefully across the living and tried the first door. Bathroom, the shower curtain hanging by only a handful of loops and a couple of towels dangling from a bar. No mat, and the whole place could use a clean. I didn't understand how you could let a place get like this. A cleaning bot barely cost anything these days.

The next room was immaculately clean, however. Even in the dark. It had probably been a bedroom at one time, but not anymore. Now it was something like an office or editing room. Computer equipment and electronics I couldn't identify were set up all over the room. Place was probably drawing half of Mars' power. A neuro chair was tucked into a corner. I whistled. That explained a lot of the poor upkeep on the rest of the building. Those chairs were expensive as hell. Five monitors had been hung on the wall in a straight line, and at the center of the table was a holomonitor.

On it, an older woman was having sex with a series of disembodied cocks, one in each hole and hand. Porn, I initially thought. But there was something about how she was behaving. She wasn't your classic porn model, so maybe she was an amateur, but even amateurs knew to at least try and keep it in shot. She wasn't bothering to adjust for some unseen camera, not even a sideways glance as she got fucked.

I bent over the desk and pulled the file details up on one of the nearby wall monitors. The filename was a string of numbers that matched the file's creation date, and a person's name. I checked the directory. Every single file was like that, the names varying wildly, always just one name per file.

"WARNING! Parolee...James Murado...is currently experiencing thoughts of a violent or sexual nature!" bleated Murado's intent broadcaster. I spun, my vest flapping wildly, Mari's handcannon leaping into my hand.

Murado froze as he caught sight of the handcannon. He was even less dressed than I was, down to just his boxer briefs. The speaker for the intent broadcaster sat embedded in his chest under his right shoulder. He was scrawny, but he was fit, and had an extensive set of tattoos up and down his torso. Some lizard part of my brain was appreciative.

"You have a warrant to search my house?" he asked.

"I don't need a warrant, I'm not a cop," I said. "And no one's going to complain about that when I get you for the murder of Hary Xu."

"Who?"

"The roasted guy in the chair this evening."

"I didn't kill that guy. I'd never kill anyone."

"No? Your jacket says you beat some millionaire in the Valley half to death, trying to rob his house."

"That was an accident. That pendejo tried to jump me with a kitchen knife. When I hit him, he smacked his head on his marble countertop. DA blew it up to get me to take a guilty plea."

One cynicism you always develop as a cop is that everyone lies. The victims, the perps, the guy you just ticketed. Everyone breaks the law, no one likes getting caught at it. So they bend the truth to suit it. Except in this case, I believed James Murado, convicted armed burglar, more than I believed his jacket.

"You didn't kill Hary Xu?"

"No."

I've learned to trust my gut, and nobody else's when it comes to these things. And right now my gut was telling me Murado was telling the truth. I just had to ensure he stayed cooperative. The handcannon would only go so far.

"But you set me up."

"I locked you in. I got paid for it. But I didn't call the cops."

"Who paid you?"

"Why should I tell you?" asked Murado. Damn, and we'd been getting along so nicely.

"It'd make me happy," I said. "And you were just being so helpful a second ago."

"Only to help me." His eyes had shifted from the handcannon, heading just to the side where my cleavage was leaking out of my vest.

"I can be helpful too," I said. "How long has it been since you've experienced more than just thoughts of a sexual nature?"

His brow furrowed. "I..."

"I'll bet it's tough to meet women with that thing going off every five seconds. Good thing you already met me, huh?"

I took one hand off my gun and slipped my arm out of the vest. It hung off my other elbow, giving Murado a view of my spectacular tits. I was already a little excited at the thought. It'd been a long time since I'd had to do any convincing. When Mari had still been alive, we'd almost never done this, unless the uncooperative person had a been a particularly pretty girl. The rest of the time she'd just straight talk them into giving up whatever they had. But without her muscle, I had to dust off my old playbook.

"I'll make you a deal," I said, changing gun hands and letting the vest fall to the floor. "I'll help you with what I know about dick, and you can help me with what you know about Hary Xu. Including whatever is on his tape on your computer. That's what those are, aren't they? You've been recording what the neuro den chairs do."

"Yes..." murmured Murado, his eyes attempting to burn holes into my chest.

"Yes, that's a deal, or yes, that's what those files are?"

"Both," said Murado.

"See, we're already being so helpful to each other," I said. "Sit down."

Murado took a seat in an office chair, his bulge already noticeable in his underwear. He'd favored 2nd skin boxer briefs, and I glanced down at his crotch. He wasn't a Theed Montgomery, either when I first knew him or more recently, but he wasn't bad, either. He had a big heavy pair of balls, too. Given what I was gonna do, it was kind of the just right set of equipment.

I put the safety on the handcannon on, then dropped it on my vest, kicking off my shoes and taking off my socks. I opened my fly, revealing my panties, a pretty unfancy pair of powder blue ones that were sexy without needing to be fished out of your ass sexy. I rolled my jeans down, facing away from Murado, giving him a fantastic view of my butt and panty-clad lips as I bent over. When I was undressed except for my panties, I turned and stepped to him, straddling him in the chair, my pussy rubbing up against his hard cock. I started to grind against him through our underwear and one of his hands stroked my back while another squeezed my ass.

I fed one nipple into his mouth and he sucked on it greedily, making it stand almost instantly, the suction and heat of his lips sending shivers down my spine. My pussy was getting wet, and when I rolled my hips back a little, I glanced down and saw I was starting to soak through both my panties and his briefs. I reached a hand down, trapping his cock between my crotch and my hand, stroking on it.

Murado switched tits, pulling my other nipple into his mouth, and both his hands had wound their way under my panties, caressing the cheeks of my ass. He slipped a hand under my thigh, one digit probing at the wetness of my pussy and I moaned involuntarily when his finger slipped in to the first knuckle. I pulled on his cock harder and he bit at my nipple, just slightly. His hands hooked the edges of my panties and began to pull.

I pulled my tit out of his mouth and let go of his cock, slapping at his hands.

"Not part of the deal," I said. "Panties stay on."

"What?" he asked. "How am I supposed to..."

"In your dreams," I told him. "Tits and mouth only. I don't trust you with anything else. I've had to pull a gun on you twice in six hours."

"That's not fair," he complained.

"Tough. You see another girl here willing to suck your cock?"

Murado frowned but said nothing. I pulled his hands up to my tits, each nipple wet and hard with his spit, and continued to grind against his cock while he thought.

"Can I taste it, though?" he asked, after a while.

Now it was my turn to pause. I hadn't really figured out how to make this fun for me. I liked giving head, sure, but that wasn't going to be enough to get me off. And if Murado was requesting it, maybe eating me out would help him get off faster. And I certainly wouldn't mind an attempt.

"Okay," I said. "But the panties stay on."

I stepped off him and turned around, spreading my legs apart. I bent over as far as I could go, one hand grasping an ankle while the other sat on the floor to steady me, as I pushed my ass back towards Murado's face.

I felt his hands caress my ass cheeks, the palms warm, the fingers a little thick as they squeezed. His nose bumped up against my panties and he inhaled deeply before I felt his lips kiss me through the fabric. A hand pulled the material blocking access to my pussy to the side, and I felt his breath, hot and damp, on my crotch. I groaned as his tongue lashed across my cunt, licking me over and over from top to bottom.

He wasn't exactly what you could call a master at eating pussy. You'd expect more from a guy who asked for it. But then again, he'd done three years in prison and another two with that broadcaster telling every woman he was interested in that he either wanted to assault or fuck her. I cut him some slack for being a little out of practice.

But not so much I wasn't going to make him change things if I needed.

I raised up and pulled away from him, leaving a fearful confusion on his face, his chin wet and shiny with my juices and his saliva. I dragged him and his office chair around until they were facing the monitor, then cleared some space on the desk and bent over it, presenting my rear to him. I looked over my shoulder.

"Fuck me with your tongue," I told him.

"What?" he asked, dipping close to me again, the hand pushing my panties back to the side after they'd snapped back into place when I stood up.

I reached back and pulled his face up against my pussy.

"Fuck me with your tongue," I said again.

It didn't take him very long to figure it out what I'd meant, and I sighed in pleasure as his tongue thrust in and out of me, licking at the walls of my pussy. I left one hand on his shaved head, holding him as best I could against me, while my other hand started to pay some much needed attention to my clit, since he definitely appeared to have forgotten about that in prison. Murado ran his free hand down the outside of my thigh, and I began to press back against him, trying to get more of his tongue inside me.

I guess I must have gotten carried away, because before I knew it, I was shuddering and gasping as I came over his face. To his credit, he just went right on fucking me with that tongue of his, even as my pussy was contracting on it over and over. It felt like he might get another orgasm out of me almost immediately, and I wasn't sure I'd want that, or who knows what I'd let him do. I pushed him away from me.

"Good," I grunted. I drew him up to his feet, then took his chair myself, leaning forward towards his crotch. "My turn."

He was hard as a rock by now, his cock looking pretty fine in his 2nd skin underwear. Not too long, not too thick. Not that I really felt like there was much wrong with too long and too thick, or that it was really possible, for me, or I would've sent Theed packing. I stroked his cock through his underwear, then ran my lips along the shaft up to the head, which I sucked into my mouth, 2nd skin and all. I sucked and swirled my tongue over the tip of his cock until the fabric was completely soaked with my spit. I let him go with a little pop.

"Take these off," I told him, tapping his ass in his underwear. It was practically like I'd pushed a magic button for disappearing boxer briefs. His naked cock stood before me. It had a gentle curve upwards and the rather large set of balls attached to him, and his pubic hair had been trimmed back considerably. I licked from the base of the shaft up to the head and then down the other side. Murado groaned and I pulled one heavy ball into my mouth before popping it out and taking in the other as I stroked his shaft with my hand. His hands ran through my hair and pulled on me insistently, and I glanced up at him watching me suckle his balls. I licked my way back up to the tip of his shaft and paused for a moment, letting my breath tease him a little, before opening my mouth and taking him all the way into my mouth, until my nose touched his torso and I could feel his sac resting on my chin.

"Oh, fuck, your mouth is so hot," he said.

"Mmmhmm," I hummed around him. He groaned in response. I wrapped my thumb and index finger along the base of his shaft, making a tight ring around his cock.

I proceeded to give him one of the sloppiest blowjobs I've given in a very long time. Usually I suck a guy off as a little crowd warming exercise, to get him ready for the main event. But as tonight's second act was currently canceled for James Murado, I held very little back. From time to time I would grab him and pull him out of my mouth, dragging the head out along the inside of my cheeks and then run down his shaft with my lips, his whole cock coated in my saliva, some of it running down his balls and my chin, and a lot of it falling on my neck and tits. After about the second or third time I did this I took him deep again and held him there until my lungs burned a little, then lifted off his cock.

He groaned with disappointment. "I'm so close."

"I know," I said. "I didn't want you to miss this, though."

I sat up as straight as I could, jutting out my chest and squeezing my upper arms together so that my perky tits pushed tightly together. I grabbed his cock and lowered it down, rubbing the head across the tops and then tapping each nipple, before plunging it into my cleavage. We both watched as I stroked the head of his cock up and down between my tits, until finally I pressed the shaft through as well, and Murado was forced to squat a little to get the right angle. He traded my hands on his cock for his own, and I pressed my tits tighter around him. I looked up into his face.

"Fuck my titties, baby," I cooed. "Fuck 'em until you cum."

He wasted no time, I guess he was pretty pent up, desperately wanting to fuck something. I don't let a lot of men use my breasts as a replacement sex doll, because what's the point for me, but when I do, they usually like to take their sweet time. Not Murado. He bucked his hips as he pounded his cock through my tits, groaning and grunting at the effort. His cock was so wet and hot across my chest bone and I was a little glad I'd already gotten off a few times today, because I was getting a little turned on by how much he wanted this.